We got quite friendly and he told me all about himself.  He had just got his two weeks’ salary, which amounted to $36.00.  He was married and had two sweet little children and a loving wife waiting for him uptown.  He told me he had taken a few drinks, as I could plainly see, and he was going down to see the Bowery and do a little sight-seeing in Chinatown.  I knew if he went any further he would be a marker for the pickpocket or others and would know nothing in a little while, so I tried to get him into the Mission, and after quite a while succeeded, and we took a seat right by the door.  He was just tipsy enough to fall asleep, and I let him do it, for a little sleep often does these men a great deal of good, changing all their thoughts when they wake.  When he woke the testimonies were being given.  I rose to my feet and gave my testimony, and sat down again.  The invitation came next, for all those that wanted this Jesus to stand.  I tried to get him on his feet, but he would not take a stand; still the seed had been sown.

He told me where he was working and where he lived—­wrote it down for me.  He was bent on going, so I said I would go up to the corner with him.  He wanted one more drink—­the Devil’s temptation!—­but at last I coaxed him to the Elevated Station at Houston Street.  He said, “I wish you could see my home and family.  Will you come up with me?” It was 10 P. M. and going would mean home for me about the early hours.  But I went up to the Bronx, got to his home, saw him in, was bidding him good-night; nothing would do but I should come in.  He had a nice little flat of five rooms.  I was introduced to his wife, who was a perfect lady.  He wanted to send out for beer.  I objected, and his wife said, “George, don’t drink any more!  I think you have had enough.”

Now was the time for me to get in a little of God’s work, so I told him my life, and what drink did for me, and I had an attentive audience.  When I finished, his wife said, “I wish my husband would take your Jesus, Mr. Ranney.  I’m a Christian, but, oh, I’d give anything if George would take Christ and give up his drinking!” He made all kinds of objections and excuses, but we pleaded and prayed.  God was working with that man, and at 3 o’clock in the morning we knelt down, the wife, the husband and I, way up in the Bronx, and God did mightily save George.  He went to his business on Monday sober.  That was three years ago, and he has held out well.  He has been advanced twice, with a raise in salary, and comes down to help me in my work on the Bowery.  God has blessed him wonderfully, and He will any one who has faith to believe.

JIM THE BRICKLAYER